


with grace in your heart

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, brief reference to richie being jewish because He Is!, v short and v sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 23:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie, Eddie, and pillow talk.





	with grace in your heart

“What do you think’s gonna happen?”

Eddie blinks, twisting sleepily to face Richie. His eyes are soft and lidded, only half-awake, and Richie thinks for a second about touching those gorgeous eyelashes, and then he does, swipes his thumb across them and makes Eddie scrunch up his nose and tilt his head. “Wha’dya mean?” he asks, voice a cloudy murmur.

“When we leave Derry, and grow up and shit. What’s gonna happen?”

“We’re gonna leave Derry and grow up and shit, I guess,” Eddie says with a yawn and a shrug. “What’s it matter?”

Richie is only a few months short of eighteen, and a couple shorter of graduation, but growing up is still a far-off concept in his head. He wants this to last forever—the two of them curled up in Eddie’s bed, moonlight dancing over the tip of Eddie’s nose. Adulthood hasn’t made itself a real, pressing concern for him yet; things will happen or they won’t, and Richie is willing to bet they will. He’s excited for the future, of course, but the future is an abstract thing, easy to be excited about. The future is a blank page. He can spend the next seven months letting his excitement build for things to come out a certain way

_ (for this to happen again, and again, and again, endless nights like these, except then Richie won’t have to sneak in, because no one will be able to tell him he doesn’t belong) _

but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. He can’t write the future; he’s just the letters on the page.

“I don’t know,” Richie says. He turns to stare at the ceiling. “I just… don’t you ever worry?”

Eddie grimaces and scrubs his hands over his eyes. “Do _I_ ever worry?” he repeats. “Rich, have you met me?”

Richie rolls his eyes and pokes him in the stomach. “Beep beep,” he says sourly. “I mean, like, do you worry about the future and all? When we _ are _grown. What the hell’s it gonna be like?”

“Why’re we talking about this now?”

“‘Cause,” Richie offers vaguely. “I guess I’ve been thinking about it. This… I don’t want to mess this up.” He traces a hand along the curve of Eddie’s cheek; Eddie leans absently into the touch, forehead creased. “This is good. It’s—it matters, Eds.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “Of course it matters. Are you just figuring that out now?”

“Eddie, baby, I knew you mattered from the first day of second grade.” He means it to be grandiose, funny, but his quiet voice turns it soft and sincere. “I just didn’t know how much, back then. But I know now. And I don’t—I don’t ever wanna lose you.”

“You aren’t gonna.” A smile tugs at Eddie’s mouth. His hand finds a strip of skin at Richie’s waist where his shirt has ridden up and settles there, tracing circles over his hip bone. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, alright?”

“You don’t know that,” Richie insists.

“‘Course I do.”

“Then what’s gonna happen in the future? Who’re we gonna be?” 

“Well, that’s easy,” Eddie says softly. “We’re gonna be married.”

Richie’s heart skitters dangerously in his chest. He tries to swallow down the hope that unfurls, warm and steady, in his throat, but it doesn’t fit. “We are?” he says, trying for teasing. “And how do you know that?”

Eddie snorts. “What, do you think we’re not?”

“I don’t know,” Richie admits. “What if we—I mean, what if we forget?”

“Forget what?” Eddie asks. “The clown? Or each other?”

Richie shrugs. On some level, they’ll always be inextricable, and both of them know that—forgetting It would mean forgetting those parts of themselves, the ones who raised baseball bats and fists and pure rage against an immortal shapeshifter and won, and neither of them are ready to leave those people behind. Forgetting each other would be 

_ (a death sentence) _

worse. Richie doesn’t know who he would be without Eddie there, keeping him anchored, reminding him who he is. He can imagine a whole listless life lived in the spaces between breaths, always waiting for something more, always missing something he’d never quite remember. The thought alone makes him hold on a little tighter to Eddie.

“Either,” he says.

“Well,” Eddie says softly. “We’ll just have to keep reminding each other, won’t we?”

“_Eds,_” Richie says, dropping his head in frustration. “Come on.”

“I’m not kidding! If I have to never let you out of my sight again to make sure you don’t forget, then, well, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” 

“Hmm,” Richie says. He flops onto his back, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, alright, that sounds pretty good to me.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Glad to know you’re on board,” he teases. “You big sap.” 

“I’m not the one who just proposed, Eddie-bear.”

Eddie’s cheeks go read. “Shut up. I didn’t _propose._”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was it not a proposal when you said you were going to marry me one day? Was that not a proposal? ‘Cause it sure sounded like a proposal to me.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says solemnly.

“Does that mean I have to return my wedding dress? And it was gonna go so well with your suit, too… What a shame.” He affects a tragic moan and buries his face in Eddie’s collarbone, then twists so his words aren’t muffled by Eddie’s skin. “Abandoned by my own boyfriend at the altar! I thought we were good, Eddie-bear! I thought we were in _love_!” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie says, but there’s no heat in it. “I didn’t _leave you at the altar,_ you weirdo. And you’re Jewish. We aren’t gonna _have_ an altar.”

“But we’re gonna have a wedding?”

Eddie shrugs. “I gotta have somewhere to leave your ass, don’t I?”

Richie gasps. “You’re going to ditch me at the _chuppah_? I can’t believe this, Eds. Ms. K would never treat me like this.”

“Ms. K hates you, dumbass.” 

“Yeah, but you love me,” Richie says smugly, and Eddie can’t argue with that.

(He wants to. But he can’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly just me playing around with my richie & eddie voices... they're fun! they're fun boys!
> 
> i hope you liked it! feel free to send me prompts/requests/whatever at jewfrogs.tumblr.com!


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